The Resting Days

This heart of restlessness beating wildly inside my chest yearns to wander…

I do not feel I was meant for this time, for this place. The unchanging nature of everything I know as each day passes feels foreign to this poet’s heart.

There is no time I feel the call to roam more than when I hear a perfect piano melody as it pours from speakers into my soul. With each note, speaking words more beautiful than the most perfectly written lyrics, I am transported to a place where ties do not bind me down to Texas. I travel the world while drinking in every stroke of an ivory key, and with my eyes closed, silently breath in a journey up until now I have only taken in my dreams…

Yearning for something other than what I have does not take away from the gratefulness I feel to be precisely where I am; a mother with two perfect children, a forsaken wife with no husband, and a child of God basking in the warmth of His promise to love me through eternity. The desire to stray does not stem from unhappiness, but rather, as if I am a poet of the 16th Century, my hands delicately trace the lines of my life and somehow I know I was meant for different days than these.

The most of this is love. A salmon-colored sky at the dawn of a day when love never leaves me is what I dream of first.

Peace exists inside me, though I speak of it seldom; a peace from the Lord, a peace from my beautiful daughters, and a peace from appreciating where I am at this point in my life.

Yet motionless I sit. Observant and quiet; close to breathlessness as I wait for nothing yet silently beckon serendipity to show me something. . .

… Love. The finery of connecting with a soul of a man whom will understand the woman behind brown eyes, and all the dreams I seek as we travel through this life together.

Purpose greater than merely satisfying selfish wants and needs – I seek to become the best mother; demonstrating steadfast faith despite overwhelming trial, and pure of love despite the mistakes I made which led me to raise these daughters alone.

Faith that only grows stronger as the years age my face and adorn my hair with silver.

Determination to overcome every obstacle in my way, and forgiveness in place of ashes where every burned bridge of my past laid to rest.

 … A calm soul. Restlessness will give way to composed appreciation at evening dusk of some long-awaited day; as the sky fades to darkness at the end of my life, may I know peace without fear, and finally be settled as I breathe my last before glimpsing the doorway to heaven.

A lifetime of wandering is ahead – neither ignorance nor refusal will deter who I am from experiencing life this way. Not that I am tortured, but it feels rather strenuous an effort to endure, indeed, when I am called to roam yet remain tethered to this generation.

Imagine a bird softly singing in a white cage. Her feathers perfectly adorn a small frame, her color a soft white and green, and her eyes carefully study a horizon she has never had the pleasure to touch in flight. As she sings, she dreams of dancing with the wind, she longs to dart amongst towering branches sending leaves circling to cool earth below.

In her heart, she is content with her enclosure but only because she knows no other life. Yet, the innate call to freedom is inescapable. Somehow, she knows her wings were meant for the life of a voyager though she has never soared over a raging ocean or landed in a meadow for momentary rest.

Her song is beautiful and yet the tone of longing is heard by the attentive listener. She sings because she must for this is why she was placed inside that cage. The world adores gazing at the lovely bird on her perch and she delights in the company of passersby.

We are one in the same, her and I…

Contentment for what I have is apparent – I am passionately in love with my children, I find joy in my work, and I find the goal of finishing my education is something I will be proud of someday as I continue to balance everything on my plate.

I do not seek an escape from what I love but only hope to illustrate the heart of a writer is unique to certain suffering; the soft song of a songbird in a cage, thankful to be fed and sheltered, yet sure that God made her to soar.

Pour into my ears, perfect piano… Take me where my bare feet long to tread. Let me fall in love with the idea of love that I believe is waiting for me somewhere in this world. Let me close my eyes and feel at home in your melody, feeling what the composer felt – longing for the same dream…

To roam in search of love, purpose, faith, determination, and a calm soul; we all seek our own path to peace, and we all feel ourselves – separate from one another – on a personal journey to each his own destiny.

Poetic harmony with nature, in love that will not cease by fire or temptation or boredom, but endure through faith as we seek to find ourselves together on a horizon at dusk when the perfect last day ends.

Nothing more yet nothing less, God, and for my daughters may I continue to be content here – if I never roam, and forever damned to restlessness, may I at least always seek you, Father and in You find quiet peace.

Forgive if I ask why I was born into a life where I seem to be poured into a concrete mold. Immoveable? Yet, thankful that I am unbreakable – steadfast, and strong – for a heart born to wander has taken root in Texas; a mighty oak who has seen a thousand fiery sunsets and cried for a thousand glistening dawns; at least I know my foundation is solid and here I wait until a mighty wind moves me. Should You never send one, here I shall remain, ever truly grateful while ever truly wishing I could fly.



Please, I welcome your thoughts, perspective, and new ideas on anything I have written here!

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